The only ones he had were his kids, all three of them. Or was it four? No, that's...don't be stupid, Alistair.
"Ali," a soft hand drifted across his shoulder. He sat up quickly to find Lanny standing behind him, her eyes noting the weary tears building. "You okay?"
"Yeah, sure," he wiped a forearm across his face and staggered away from Kieran, "just peachy keen. Trapped in the deep roads with my baby, haven't seen my other kids in nearing a week. All at the whims of a witch I really thought I would never have to look upon ever again. That Maker, you think you've got Him all figured out and then woosh! Total curveball."
"I will find a solution," Lanny said, gripping tighter to his arm.
He tapped her fingers and sighed, "I know you will, you always do. It's what you're good at."
"Cullen doesn't understand," she whispered.
"Reiss neither. I mean, I think she tries to, a bit. But it's...I don't know if I understand." His son, but not his son. Made from his blood and other bits so long ago Alistair was just a kid himself. A means to an end that didn't vanish, didn't fade once the danger was passed. He was here and he was in trouble.
"Do you ever wonder," Alistair began, glancing over at Lanny, "why I agreed to it? Why I willingly went to Morrigan's room and...let her do her magic?" His lips twisted in spite, wanting to spit away the venom of thinking upon it.
Lanny's soulful eyes wandered over him, brimming with their own tears from hours of reading by weak lamplight. She reached forward for a chaste half hug and sighed, "No. I know exactly why you did it."
"Yeah," he sighed, "I guess you would. Same as me." Alistair tried to worry away a knot building in his neck, but somehow that only made things worse, "What are we going to do?"
"For now I'm researching everything Elven I can get my hands on. But, short of taking a sabbatical to the Imperium for a few years, there isn't much to go off of."
"Any word from the Inquisitor?" Alistair turned away from Kieran, trying to lock all those complicated emotions in a chest for later.
"No," she shook her head, "and I fear there will not be one."
Alistair scoffed, "Maybe if I put a little pressure. King of Ferelden asking nicely to tap into all that ancient elfy knowledge he swallowed. We could offer a few troops in return."
"I doubt that would work. They say that Gaerwn is hesitant to obey the whispers of the well these days, given the current climate. And if his old Commander cannot get him to try, I fear nothing could."
"What? Save a King's daughter and be owed a favor from an entire nation? Who turns that down?" Alistair groaned, "What's an old templar got that I haven't to entice the offer?"
Lanny snickered, "That sneer, I suspect."
"No, the Inquisitor and...the templar?" Alistair twisted his head over at Cullen who was standing with Reiss. Their children slept on unaware of the adults teaching the other how to destroy mages. She'd tried to wheedle the skills out of him, but Alistair had to tell the truth. This many years post chantry, he had no idea how to teach anyone. He could tap into his pretty much on accident or when he was really mad. Being able to get Reiss to dismantle even the simplest spell would take weeks.
But that damn templar agreed. Said that she should be able to defend herself from the witch same as the rest. It wasn't as if Alistair could argue with that logic, Reiss was dead set on her path of vengeance no matter what he did. Sometimes he was surprised she didn't set out to slit the throat of that ex-boyfriend of hers.
Reiss had a blade out, both of her hands wrapped around the grip as if in prayer, while Cullen kept circling her. He never touched her, but it was close enough Alistair would stagger up on his toes to keep an eye on them. Yeah, okay, she was right. He should probably do something about his jealousy streak.
"So your husband and the Inquisitor," Alistair tried to turn away from watching the pair sparring with their minds. It wasn't as much fun as it sounded -- requiring the recruits to sit and glare at each other until they could manage to knock one down using a mental attack. Once, Alistair got so bored during the sitting, he tipped his head forward and smashed into his sparring partner's nose. That was ten weeks in the kitchens.
Lanny, in no mood to gossip about such intriguing matters, flipped through her books instead, "I want to find an answer. I need to find an answer but... Maker's breath, this would all be so much simpler if Morrigan had drunk from the well."
"Maybe she'd be stuck somewhere dancing for Flemeth's amusement. An eternity on her mother's leash," Alistair mused to himself. "Maker, that's a lovely thought."
"I meant because she'd have knowledge of how to reverse this damage. Or wouldn't have attempted the spell in the first place. Andraste's ass, it's as if he's missing a quarter of himself. No one can survive like that, and I..." she shuddered, her hands gripping tight to her cane as her shoulders slumped forward.
"Lanny," Alistair patted her back, "what if you can't save him? What's our plan B?"
Her eyes cracked, heartbreak shining in them. She hadn't considered it. Hadn't thought for a single moment that in all of this she'd have to be the one to put an end to Kieran, perhaps to Morrigan as well. "I don't know, Ali," she whispered, "I don't know anything anymore."
Alistair wanted to hug her, to tell her it would be okay even while both knew it was a lie, when a wave of power undulated through the air. It knocked Lanny back, and instinctively Alistair gripped onto her hands to keep her on her feet. "Maker's sake, what was...?" was as far as he got before he recognized the signs of a holy smite dissipating in the air.
Turning to ask the two combatants, a cry erupted from the sleeping bundle hidden under a blanket. Another joined in, both babies feeling the same buildup of pressure and none too happy about it. Reiss unfolded her hands and the sword scattered to the ground. "Myra, baby," she dashed towards their daughter to scoop her up, "I'm so sorry. Shh...that's not meant to hurt you."
His little Wheaty's big green eyes dripped even bigger tears as she stuffed her fist into her mouth. She gazed around, the wails lowering in pitch but not stopping entirely. Cullen tucked up his son, Gavin fading back to normal quicker from the blast, but he had a furrowed brow of concern. Tan hands patted against his father's cheeks as if asking what in the Maker's name he thought he was doing.
Reiss was still beside herself, surprised at the power she could unleash. "You're not supposed to be hurt," she said to Myra, patting against their daughter's back.
Beside him, Lanny snapped rigid, her eyes swiveling back to Kieran stretched out on his death bed. "But one of us will be," she sighed, "no matter what."
"Lanny...?"
"I should return to work. If there's news from the Inquisitor..." she limped back to the desk that all but held her captive. It was a wonder Morrigan didn't chain her leg to it.
"You'll be the first to know," Alistair promised, bowing his head. Before he left her to it, he glanced over at Kieran, his son in what seemed to be name only, and the pit grew wider in his stomach.
* * *
The bandage was wrapped tight enough around her fingers to cut off circulation, but Reiss kept constricting it. Yank it back harder until her skin puffed through the gaps like over-proofed dough. It was a distraction much better than the other one wandering beyond the edge of sight. The witch was smart to keep far away, but Reiss could feel her snicker and hear her condescension with every attempt of the elven woman to try to throw a templar skill.
"That's probably enough," Cullen glanced over from whatever minor traps he'd been laying. It was her job to disarm them, to sense the source of magic and tug it free. Reiss couldn't even spot them, never mind dispel shit. Her baby's life was on the line and all she could do was stand back and wait for someone else to handle it. It was crap, all of it.
She stopped tugging on the bandage to glare up at the altar Morrigan placed her son on. Almost as if he was the next savior of thedas and they were all to bow down to him. Or a sacrifice, stretched out before the next god to come falling out of the fade. It seeme
d to be one in the same anymore. Giant threat arises to doom them all and someone plucked from obscurity rises up to fight it off. Rinse and repeat every few years.
"If you require a break," the Commander spoke again, drawing her attention away from the witch drifting near his wife.
Reiss wanted to insist she was fine, that she'd get the hang of this soon, but her eyes drilled into Morrigan. Her fault. She didn't just kidnap Myra, curse her, threaten to spill her blood for her own reasons. No, she did the same to her own son. In some mad quest to do Maker knows what evil thing, she trapped him, doomed him. Same as everyone else down here.
"This is bullshit," Reiss snarled, forgetting whose company she was in.
The Commander, however, didn't blanch at her filthy mouth. His amber eyes narrowed down upon the witch and he snarled, "I agree."
"It's her doing, all of it. We should..."
His hand cupped her shoulder, the touch light but soldiery, as if he was trying to pass years of battalion camaraderie through it. "We have to put faith in Lana," Cullen tried to force a smile, but it didn't take. He turned to stare up at his wife who looked more haggard with every day. No one wanted to talk about it, because what could they say? Hey, you're starting to look terrible. Maybe you should take a break, oh wait, now we're all trapped here even longer. Never mind.
"Do you think she'll...?" Reiss began before shaking the thought away. What was the point? Either she would or she wouldn't, then it was back to fighting off a witch and a ticking clock. "I've never wished for magic in my family more than I do right now," she groaned sinking to her weary knees.
Myra sat inside their little playpen trap that Cullen devised. He was surprisingly good at finding ways to keep the babies penned in but safe. All those years as a templar? She wanted to ask if they'd had to deal with babies and children while in the chantry's service, but something in his sullen gaze warned her to hold her tongue. He was quick but cautious about it all, as if continually uncertain about everything when it came to his son.
For now Gavin was tuckered out, still down for the nap Myra rose from a good hour ago. He was shorter than her child, but something told Reiss that wasn't going to last forever. Far too much of the father in him, in both of them. Her baby, her beautiful little girl, was chewing on a wooden toy the guards unearthed from somewhere. It was all they had, the kids having to share. Surprisingly, both caught on to the idea quickly, often passing it back and forth to let the other play with it.
Every once in awhile Myra would glance over at her fellow child trapped in this abyss, as if she was waiting for him to hurry and wake up. They were going to miss each other when this was over. If this ever finished.
Reiss reached into the playpen to cup her hands around her daughter. In no mood to get out, Myra knocked the wooden toy into them for a moment, then ran her sharp nails over Reiss' skin. "If I had magic, I could end this, all of it," she whispered to her daughter.
"Be careful thinking such matters," Cullen suddenly loomed closer behind her. "Blood magic is..."
"A curse upon the Maker, I know," she was losing her cool, that armor she always wore long shattered thanks to exhaustion and fear. "But so's stealing a mother's child. People who say one wrong won't solve another have never had their back against the wall."
"If you are considering asking my wife to--" he began, his voice low and threatening like loose gravel on a hill.
Reiss spun away from her baby to interrupt, "No, no, it's my daughter, my curse to make. Not that it matters either way. I can't even see whatever you did over there. I can't break apart magic, never mind create it from thin air."
He thawed, but the edge remained, like a blade frozen inside a glacier. None of them were going to step back until they were free of this Maker awful place. "Do not give up hope, there is some room left to fight. Sometimes that's all a soldier needs."
"I can see why you left all the speeches to Addley, Ser," Reiss snickered, turning to him.
That caused him to blush a moment, his head rolling away as if she caught him on some major secret. The investigator inside wanted to dive deeper, but he turned towards his wife, who was hobbling towards them. Always quick to her side, Cullen abandoned his pupil to assist the only hope they had left, the only hope they ever had.
"Is he still out?" Lana asked peering down at her son. "Maker's breath, that's near on half the day."
"I know," the father added back, "tonight shall be never ending. Perhaps we should wake him."
"And face down that sour puss? He's worse than you when woken from a nap," she scoffed, causing Cullen to softly scowl, a very close copy to the look Gavin would pull when annoyed. That boy wouldn't have to explain who his father was very often as he grew. Would the same be true for Myra?
"What have you learned?" Reiss interrupted their little parental moment. She staggered away from her knees and her daughter. Turning, she spotted Alistair joining in the group, his arms crossed.
"Not much, I'm afraid. I can barely understand the baseline of the spell. It's...it seemed to be an ancient tevinter protection one, from the days of the early early Imperium. But, that's not right either. I think it may have been one devised to turn away the eyes of the Evanuris, essentially blind the old slaves or rebels from their gods. No idea if it worked, but the Tevinter mages altered it, turned it to work upon humans."
Lana sounded fascinated by it all, this ancient knowledge that no one should possess. It nearly ripped the world apart thanks to Corypheus. And now, it could be the death of Reiss' child. "So how do you reverse it?"
"I...have no idea. Spells this complex can't be broken apart. It's not like scratching old words off of vellum. They have to be deconstructed first. And in order to do that I have to understand it."
"Lanny," Alistair drifted closer to Reiss, a hand curling around her waist as he held her tight. She could sense the question neither of them wanted to ask. "How long would that take?"
"I have no..."
"Give us an estimate," he threw out with a stressed voice, both of them needing an answer. A few more weeks they could work with, a month might be a stretch, but anything beyond and it was impossible.
"If, if I can get a successful test run of a basic version then I can start walking it back to--."
"Maker's breath, Lana. No one here cares about the mechanics," her husband spoke sharply. She didn't inhale at the jab but her eyes darted to him in surprise. "We need the truth. We need a real plan."
"A year," she confessed, "perhaps more."
There it was. Reiss rounded down to stare at Myra, her baby unaware of an entire world out there passing them by. Alistair couldn't lose a year down here, the kingdom wouldn't allow it. Nor would he stay away from his other children that long. And if she stayed, her agency, her work was doomed. Assuming it wasn't already fully underwater or burnt to the ground. Lunet sent a missive promising everything was just fine, but Reiss knew that could be a lie for her sake.
"Reiss," Alistair's fingers crested across her spine, his voice cracking in pain. She didn't look up at him because she knew what he'd choose. They'd stay, they'd find some way to appease the witch in order to save the boy. But Reiss wouldn't do it. Stalling, giving the Hero time to try and find a cure only stoked the fires inside of her. Her blood rage didn't lessen over the days, it remained percolating behind her eyes and she intended to finish this.
"You know what we have to do," she said, her eyes on their baby.
"And risk Wheaty?" he groaned back, a hand tearing up his hair.
"Fuck Morrigan and her kid, cure the curse she put on Myra instead," Reiss turned to Lana who paled at the attention. She began to scoot backwards with her cane, but bumped into her husband who refused to move.
"I told you, I can't. If I could, I would have already."
"Really?" Reiss rounded on her, tired of crying, tired of begging, tired of hoping. All she wanted was action, an answer to the never ending questions. "Because you're sure as shit quick to leap to the kid's side. To put yo
ur all into healing him. What about my baby? Or have you been lying this whole time about blood magic being the only thing to break it?"
"Be careful of what you accuse me of," she hissed back, her hand lifting. No doubt she was doing something magical, but Reiss could barely taste it.
"It's no secret that you and this witch are friends. And you owe her a debt, right? You'd be dead if not for her and the brat. Why not lie?"
"Knock it off!" It was Alistair who lashed out, his hand gripping onto her arm to stop her from doing something stupid. "You're not helping anything right now by accusing Lanny of shit."
"Don't you want to get out of here? To walk free with your daughter knowing she's safe?" Reiss' voice cracked, feeling completely alone in this.
He reached forward to wrap his arms around her. With her head nestled against his chest, the tears began. She was so tired of feeling vulnerable, of never knowing if her heart could keep going or if it would finally crumble away. Alistair buried his chin into her bun, his lips whispering into the golden hair, "I get it, we're all at the breaking point, but turning on each other isn't going to help. We need a plan, a real, workable one. Do you have anything, Cullen?"
"Maybe," the Commander stepped forward a moment, "an idea, that..."
Alistair's head shot up off of Reiss' bun, his eyes hunting through the cavern as if he spotted a shadow. When she turned, Reiss saw the Hero doing the same. With her lips pulled back tight against her teeth, Lana looked like a cat in full hiss about to swat at whatever was threatening it. Cullen reached towards his wife, trying to get her attention with a, "Lana?"
On cue, both Alistair and Lana's heads pivoted right to the far wall. Rock exploded inward towards them, crumbling to reveal a hole filling quickly with darkspawn.
"Shit!" Alistair shouted. Reiss slipped away from him, both fumbling for their swords. Hurlocks swarmed out, their weapons at the ready while scrabbling over fallen rocks and debris. They lashed their tongues against the air, gibbering in what passed for darkspawn language, when ice blanketed against the first line. Frosted white, the darkspawn behind shattered through their peers while leaping towards the unprepared people.
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